


fox-like smiles and human hearts

by ratbandaid



Series: sylvix week 2020!! [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Blood and Injury, Happy Ending, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kitsune, M/M, One Shot, Reunions, War, very very slight references to child abuse bc miklan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratbandaid/pseuds/ratbandaid
Summary: Felix's life changes for the better after he rescues an injured kitsune at age six.-----Sylvix Week Day 5: Training/Sparring | Promises |Myths & Legends AU
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: sylvix week 2020!! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932814
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	fox-like smiles and human hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not Japanese, so I don't really know much about their culture, but I hope I'm not doing it a disservice here! ^^;;
> 
> ~~but I do think that writing more Kitsune!Sylvain or maybe Kitsune!Felix in the future would be really fun 👀👀~~

Felix doesn’t like rain. It makes the house unbearably humid, dark, and it means that Glenn won’t train with him outside. But there’s always a good side to the rain. It makes the plants outside happy, and Glenn seems to like it, always inviting Felix to sit with him in the living room as they prop open one of the sliding doors and listen to the rain gently fall against the ground outside.

Tonight is one of those nights. Glenn is in the kitchen, talking with their father about something after dinner, and Felix is carefully taking care of one of his training swords the way that Glenn taught him too. He’s hoping his older brother will come out while he’s working and give him a compliment, a warm smile and a ruffle of the hair as pride sparks in both of their chests.

The rain outside is harder than usual, but it isn’t stormy enough for Glenn and Father to argue over whether or not to keep the door open. The sound of the rain is loud, a constant pitter and patter as it slides down leaves and lands to the dirt below in little puddles. It’s a calming sound, kind of like one of the small waterfalls nearby—a whisper like the clouds are speaking to him.

But there’s an odd sound amongst all the rain.

A sharp whimper—like a high-pitched bark of some sort. It comes from outside their house, just outside the door but just out of view.

Felix looks up from his sword and looks back to the kitchen, where Glenn and Father are laughing about something. They always say not to go out at night for demons and spirits linger there, waiting to trick him and take his soul. Felix knows all too well. These demon stories keep Felix up at night whether it’s through nightmares or thoughts or shadows along the wall, and he often crawls into Glenn’s futon, shakily clinging to him while Glenn, half-asleep, reassures him that _the house is protected, Felix, you don’t need to be so scared._

The noise happens again, a little weaker now, but it’s followed by a slight thud at their porch. Felix cranes his neck to see around the wall of their home, but he has no luck seeing what’s outside. His heart thuds against his chest.

 _Is the house really protected_? Felix wonders as he stands up. Curiosity is getting the better of him.

Another quick glance to the kitchen. Father and Glenn are still talking about something, but Felix can hear the telltale clink of those special little glasses they use for drinking, and he can faintly smell it over the smell of the fresh rain on the nature outside that seeps into their home. They didn’t want Felix to drink, but they promised to come and join him in the living room soon.

They were celebrating Glenn getting accepted into one of the more prestigious schools for sword-fighting where they lived. Felix feels his chest warm up with pride. He’s going to go there too. He knows he is. Glenn’s been helping him train, and so when he’s old enough, he’ll go there and be the best of his class.

Speaking of sword skills, Felix is pretty confident in his. He isn’t good enough to beat Father or Glenn yet, but that’s because they’re bigger than him and older than him. He’ll be good enough soon. And besides, he’s better than his friends.

So if there is a demon outside, maybe Felix can take care of it and protect his family. It sounds small and weak from the thud it made against the porch and the little whines it’s making, so it shouldn’t be a problem for Felix.

Felix stands up quietly and holds his training sword up in a defensive pose as he slowly inches his way out of the living room, towards their sliding doors, and to the porch. Felix peeks his head out of the house in the direction of the noise. He looks around, even going as far as to look above him. But he doesn’t see anything.

No, that’s a lie. Felix sees an unmoving, little lump on their porch, just barely lit up by the light from the lanterns in their home filtering through their paper window panels. It’s kind of red and fluffy-looking.

His heart constricts in his chest as fear slowly dribbles into his veins. _What_ is _that?_ he wonders.

Slowly, slowly, he walks towards it, but he freezes when it moves.

Felix finds himself staring at a pair of bright, brown eyes, half-closed. It’s a cat. No, a fox. It’s too big and oddly-colored to be a cat. Its body heaves up and down quickly, like every breath it takes is a weak attempt to trying to cling to life. It’s then that Felix realizes it’s covered in wounds.

Felix doesn’t think twice, overcome with pity and urgency. He sheathes his sword and kneels to come closer to it, holding out a hand. It draws back sharply and gives him a wary look, its nose wrinkling up a little like it wants to snarl at him.

“I won’t hurt you,” Felix promises. “Let me help you.”

It stares at him a little longer before setting its head down against the ground.

Felix takes that as consent. Felix touches the fox’s forehead, trying to pat it reassuringly. Its fur is matted and wet from rain, and clumps of warm blood are making the fur stick together. It’s kind of gross.

Felix takes note of its wounds as he tries to carefully pick it up. It doesn’t protest. It lies limply in his arms, breathing hard through it’s little, black nose.

“I’ll take care of you,” Felix promises.

He wobbles a little with the added weight in his arms, but he makes his way back into the house. He knows he has to keep it hidden from Father. He thinks Father won’t like if he sees Felix bringing in a young fox, especially since he’s allergic to cats. And cats are related to foxes, right? Felix doesn’t really know, but he just knows Father might throw a fit.

But Glenn walks in right as Felix steps into the living room.

“Felix! What is that?” he blurts.

Felix hushes him. “Don’t tell Father,” he pleads.

“I know you wanted a cat,” Glenn says, slowly coming towards him, “but I’m pretty sure that isn’t a cat, Felix. Not the kind you want.”

Felix pouts at him. “I know! It’s a fox, and I found it on the porch, and I think it needs help.” He gives Glenn a pitiful look, the kind that he knows gets him exactly what he wants. The kind that makes Glenn sigh exasperatedly before indulging him and spoiling him rotten.

It works. As always.

Glenn sighs exasperatedly and holds his arms out. “Give it here.”

The fox squirms when Felix tries to hand it to Glenn. It yips a little, digging its claws into Felix’s clothes. Glenn looks behind them, towards where their father is currently washing their dishes. The sound of him washing dishes stops, and Felix holds his breath.

“What was that?” Father calls.

“I stubbed my toe,” Glenn quickly lies. He imitates the noise, followed sharply by a hiss of, “Ow, ow, ow…” Glenn smiles at Felix, who tries to hold back a little giggle.

A brief pause.

“Be careful, then,” Father says simply, and the sound of scrubbing and clattering of dishes continues.

“I don’t think it likes you,” Felix tells Glenn quietly, petting the fox’s head. It leans into his touch, its wary look never leaving Glenn for a split second.

Glenn sighs. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll bring the medicine and the gauze. You stay put.” He winces. “And try not to get blood everywhere.” He walks away.

Felix sits down and smiles a little at the fox in his arms. “Don’t worry,” he says, knowing the fox won’t say anything back to him. “Glenn’s really good at everything! Like swords, but he’s good at medicine too! He’s really smart, so you’ll be okay.”

It stares at him curiously.

-

Felix holds onto the fox as Glenn wipes away the blood and dabs an herbal concoction on the wounds, wrapping them in a bandage.

“What do we do now?” Felix asks when Glenn finally pulls away from the fox and wipes his hands.

“I don’t think it’s safe to send it out yet, so maybe we should hide it and keep an eye on it.”

Felix smiles.

“It’s not a pet,” Glenn reminds him gently.

“I know!”

They hide the kitsune in a closet that none of them really use, hiding it with a bowl of water, a few cutlets of meat, and a blanket when Felix insists that it might get cold. Glenn only smiles but lets Felix make a makeshift bed for it, even though he knows that he’s going to be the one to have to wash it.

Throughout the night, Felix sneaks away from his futon towards the closet to check up on the fox. He whispers reassuring words at it, telling it stories like Glenn does on the nights that Felix is sick or sad or scared, and pets it. It seems to like him, headbutting Felix’s hand when he holds it out to pet him, and sometimes, it rolls over and shows its tummy!

It seems to like him a lot, so that’s why Felix is confused and a little hurt when the fox disappears by morning.

-

Felix misses that fox. He’s hardly known it, barely even kept it for a few hours, but it was exciting having an animal in the house around, especially one that’s fluffy and one that likes Felix’s company. He kind of wishes that it didn’t run off in the morning, that it stayed so Felix could really make it his pet, but as Glenn likes to say: what happened, happened.

But sometimes, he swears he catches glimpses of it in the village, trailing behind him or watching him from the bushes. He sees brief flashes of red fur, sees a long, red tail, sees tawny, brown eyes watching him.

When he tells Glenn, Glenn only smiles and ruffles his hair, making Felix huff and redo his ponytail.

“Maybe you’ve befriended a kitsune.”

Felix stares in shock. Kitsune? As in those legendary fox spirits? It’s such an exciting thought, to have such a strong and amazing friend. But are they really friends? The fox always runs away when Felix sees it.

But even if it runs away from him, Felix kind of wants that kitsune to be his friend.

-

“Felix,” Felix's father calls from the door. “Your friend’s here to play!”

Felix blinks. Ingrid’s father is making her practice her calligraphy today, and Dimitri has to study. He doesn’t really play with other village kids as much, so he isn’t sure who could be there. He goes nonetheless.

He finds himself staring at a boy just a little older, just a bit taller than him, with red hair, brown eyes, and a sly, toothy grin, where his slightly pointed canines are peeking out. 

“Hi,” he greets.

Father pats Felix’s shoulder as he leaves to go tend to his work, writing those special, fancy papers for the government. The door slides shut behind Felix, and if he strains his ears, he can hear the doors slide shut behind his father in his office.

“Do you know who I am?” the boy asks him.

 _Am I supposed to?_ Felix wonders. He stares at the boy. There _is_ something kind of familiar about him, Felix admits, but he’s never met someone with such bright, red hair. He feels like he would remember if he did.

Felix sheepishly shakes his head. “Sorry. I don’t know you.”

The boy shrugs. “No sweat. Then, let me introduce myself.” He holds a hand. “I’m Sylvain.” He grins again, those pointy canines flashing at him again.

“I’m Felix,” Felix introduces, though he’s sure that the boy—Sylvain—already knows his name if he asked Father for permission to play with him. He takes Sylvain’s hand to shake it.

But right as their palms touch, a strange, dream-like vision appears in Felix’s head, though it isn’t in Felix’s perspective.

_Fear runs through him as he frantically runs away from an angry redhead, his body burning and aching everywhere. His breaths feel like a blow to his lungs every time; his bare feet are pricked by pebbles and pointy stick. Tears roll down his cheeks as the thought of his imminent death slowly looms over him._

_A house lit up by lanterns stands out in the dark and rainy night like a beacon of faith. He runs towards the house and collapses on the porch._

_His vision swims in and out of darkness and the world around him. He closes his eyes. It’s dark. He opens his eyes, and a boy, lit by the light coming through the house’s window, stands there._

Felix pulls his hand away from Sylvain in shock. That’s him—that was Felix and his house in that vision. But on that rainy night, Felix rescued a fox, not a boy. Unless this boy…

Sylvain smiles at him.

“You?” Felix asks quietly. “You’re the fox?”

"Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” The boy idly folds his arms behind his head, but his eyes are knowing, happy. “I was healing,” he tells Felix honestly. “I wanted to come back and thank you, but I was too weak to change my form.”

"Change your form,” Felix echoes, and it clicks. That night, Felix had not rescued a fox nor a boy. He had rescued one of those fabled fox spirits—a kitsune. It was just as Glenn had joked.

Sylvain nods. “Yeah. And now I’m here to, y’know, pay you back.”

"How?”

Sylvain shrugs. “Don’t know. What do you want from me?” He pauses. “There is only so much I can do, but I still want to repay you for saving me.”

Felix thinks about the times where he walked through the village with the fox’s eyes watching him, with the fox trailing hesitantly behind him. He thinks about how busy Ingrid and Dimitri always are, about how busy Glenn has started to be with his studies and how busy his father is with his work.

He thinks about how lonely he is.

And he knows what he wants.

“A friend,” he tells Sylvain. “I want a friend.”

Sylvain looks shocked briefly, but he smiles soon enough. It’s not sly or mischievous like his very first smile. It’s genuine. Happy, even.

"Okay. Then I’ll be your friend.”

-

Sylvain grows to be Felix’s friend almost immediately. Sylvain’s fun to be with. He makes funny jokes and plays funny pranks, and he’s knows lots of fun games to play when they’re not sparring. He’s smart enough to help Felix when he has questions on the homework that his father and his classes assign him.

And he’s kind. Oh, is he kind. Sylvain is always happy to hear out Felix’s problems and comfort him when he’s upset. He doesn’t even tease Felix when he cries like how Glenn does. Felix tries to do the same for Sylvain, especially when he shows up to their playdates looking a little rougher than usual, but Sylvain never says anything about what’s ailing him.

But Felix has a pretty good idea of what’s going on from what he picked up in Sylvain’s words. He doesn’t know how to help Sylvain, but he helps patch him up and gives him tight hugs, telling him that he’s there for Sylvain.

Sylvain seems to appreciate it, shutting his eyes tightly and clinging to Felix like Felix is what keeps him grounded and happy.

Through the years, they become close friends in the blink of an eye, settling to each other’s sides like they’ve known each other their whole lives. Inseparable, always found together. Even after Glenn’s death. Even after Miklan’s death.

But one day, as a war erupts all throughout their once-peaceful land, Felix goes to fight and defend his home from invaders. He doesn’t see Sylvain for a while after that, but he thinks about Sylvain near constantly.

He thinks about Sylvain showing Felix, and only Felix, his many tails and his perky, fluffy, red ears. About his warm smiles and warmer touches. About his pointy little canines, seen briefly in the sly, foxlike grins he gives him, and his eyes, glinting with joy, with mischief.

He thinks about Sylvain’s sad face when he insists that Felix should stay, that Felix shouldn’t fight in the war—but Felix couldn’t stay. He had to fight, and Sylvain wouldn’t follow, claiming that a war between mortals isn’t something he wanted to get involved in.

“Fine, fight if you have to,” Sylvain told him, a little crossly, but Felix could tell he was more hurt, more concerned, than anything. “But return to me in one piece.” His gaze softened. “I have something important I need to ask you after the war ends.”

Felix had agreed and given his long-time friend one last, brief hug—a touch he’ll think about for years to come, until the war ends—and a nod before strapping his sword to his back and hopping atop his horse to follow his father into the battlefield.

Sylvain watched, a lone figure in their village with the most crestfallen expression Felix had ever seen on him. His ears had been pressed against his head then, and his many tails hung limply behind him.

And that’s what keeps Felix alive. The thought that he’ll come back to Sylvain and wipe that crushing frown away from Sylvain’s face, to hear what Sylvain wants to say, to bring that small smile back to Sylvain’s face.

-

Felix, now age twenty-two, sighs as he steps foot into the village he once grew up in. It’s nostalgic in a bitter-sweet way. He remembers climbing this knotted, old tree and getting chased around by Glenn in that neighbor’s farm. He remembers hiding with Sylvain in someone’s farm and pulling pranks, of them sneaking snacks out of their homes and sharing them, of them sparring and playing together in Felix’s yard.

He favors the memories with Sylvain more than he favors those with his beloved brother. The memories with Sylvain are not tinged with misery and grief. They are tinged with a soft friendship, with pure joy and warmth, with such strong feelings that they leave Felix winded.

But this village is abandoned now. The war had left it razed to the ground as nothing but ashes. It’s painful to see, but Felix takes what little comfort he can in the fact that the war has ended.

Yet, he can’t be too comfortable until he sees that the one person he cares most about is, the only person he has left, is still alive.

He wanders through the village, looking in every nook and cranny for a tousled mess of red hair and mischievous smiles. He searches in the trees, hoping to see Sylvain sitting leisurely up there like he used to. He peeks into burnt-down houses, thinking Sylvain would try to seek shelter during the war. He breaks down doors of closets and sheds desperately, for a sign of _anything_ related to Sylvain.

Sylvain’s nowhere to be found.

Felix falls to his knees, sinking the blade of his sword into the dirt beside him.

The war is heartless. The war is cold and evil and merciless.

It is the opposite of everything that Sylvain ever was.

And perhaps that’s why Sylvain hasn’t made it out alive.

No, that’s impossible. Sylvain’s a divine being. He’s one of the strongest spirits known to man. His nine tails is blatant proof of this. There’s no way he could have died during a war between humans.

But there’s always a chance that he was caught in the wrong place, wrong time. What if he had been hurt again, lying on Felix’s porch and waiting for him to come save him like when they first met? What if the enemy troops burned the village down then, when Sylvain was too weak to move? What if the flames that ate away at Felix’s childhood home took Sylvain with them?

It’s hard not to think so grimly. Especially when others around him are lamenting the same thing. As the war ended, people returned home and tried to connect with their family and friends once more. But not everyone made it out.

Felix looks around the village. A few families are grieving the loss of their homes, their livelihoods, their family members, together.

Felix picks himself up off the ground and grabs his sword, pulling its blade out of the dirt. He knows what he must do.

When he was little, he promised Sylvain that they would die together. If Sylvain is dead, then he’s left Felix by himself. Felix wouldn’t have been able to fulfill their promise, but they can reunite in the afterlife.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself and raises his sword, readying his nerves before the pain of it plunging it into his body. The pain would be nothing compared to what it feels like to live without Sylvain, though, and that’s what keeps Felix fixed on doing this.

But before he can do anything, a woman with long, red hair hurries up to him, clasping her hands together.

“My husband,” she sobs. “Please, sir, have you seen my husband?”

Felix frowns. He halts his hands and sheathes his sword, putting a hand on his hip. He might as well do his best to help this woman before he leaves. She’s in a situation similar to him after all. “Who?” he asks.

“A handsome man who used to live here,” she continues deliriously, gesturing at the remains of Felix’s childhood home. “A man with long, dark hair and beautiful brown eyes. A Fraldarius.”

Felix grimaces. “Glenn Fraldarius died years ago. And he never married.”

She shakes her head. “No, not that Fraldarius. The other one!”

Felix sighs. “Rodrigue died during the war.” Felix continues coldly, stepping away from the woman. “And his _wife_ died almost two decades ago.”

“No!” She grasps at his arm.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Felix says, wrenching his arm from the woman. “I can’t bring back the dead. If I could, I would have. You think I want my family dead?”

“Then you are the last Fraldarius?” It’s less of a question, and more of a musing.

Felix frowns. “Yeah.”

“Oh, how cruel! How cruel!”

Felix rolls his eyes. The war must have truly gotten to this woman.

He isn’t prepared for what she says next.

“How cruel for a man not to remember his lover!” The woman’s delirious tears fade away, and she flashes a sly smile at Felix, cocking her head to the side. Her eyes are brown. Her smile is toothy. Her canines are sharp.

It’s all familiar. The gesture, the eyes, the smile. It’s _too_ familiar.

Felix’s eyes widen.

A slight tinge of blue light envelops the woman’s form. She becomes taller, broader. Her hair becomes shorter, messier. And her clothes, once a ragged housewife’s clothes, become more pristine, more masculine.

And standing before him, as the light and the illusion fades away, is Sylvain. He’s just as handsome as he was five years ago, if not more. He’s taller. His face is sharper; his eyes are older, wiser. But his smile is still the same.

A true sight for sore eyes. Felix is sure that simply lying one’s eyes, one’s gaze, upon Sylvain again, after so long, could restore vision to those the sightless and to those with visual impairments of any kind. A sight so beautiful, so sweet and warming and _perfect._

Felix stares at Sylvain, his heart overwhelmed with relief, with a joy so potent that Felix could cry. His hands tremble at his sides, and his knees go weak.

“You’re back,” Sylvain says quietly, smiling still. His eyes are fond, glassy. “You’re finally back.”

“You…” Felix throws his sword aside and gathers Sylvain in his arms in a tight embrace. Sylvain doesn’t hesitate in hugging him back.

“I was worried something happened,” Sylvain whispers, his voice ever so slightly shaking. “You didn’t come back right after the war ended. I was worried.”

Felix couldn’t. Dimitri had tried to ask Felix to fill in for his father’s position.

“I thought you were dead,” Felix says flatly. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve been here this whole time.” Sylvain pulls away. “Even after the village got torn down. I was here. Waiting for you.”

“Dumbass. You could have gotten yourself killed.” Felix clicks his tongue. “What kind of moron stays in a village that’s being torched to the ground?”

Sylvain only laughs. “I couldn’t leave. I knew you’d come back here to look for me. And if I wasn’t here…” His gaze drifts to the sword Felix had cast aside, and it darkens a little.

Felix sighs. Sylvain knows him all too well.

“But I’m here and I’m well,” Sylvain reassures him. “I’ve always been a resilient bastard. It’ll take more than the destruction village to kill me.” Sylvain smiles.

 _Good,_ Felix thinks. _Be as resilient as you must—just as long as you stay by me._

But instead of saying this, he rolls his eyes and says, “Why did you pretend to be a widow when you saw me?”

Sylvain laughs. “I wanted to surprise you. And I couldn’t help myself. It’s part of my nature, you know.”

"What, being a cheeky pain in the ass?”

Sylvain smiles warmly at him. “I missed you. I missed your biting words, Felix.” He pauses. “Do you remember what I told you before you left?”

Of course Felix remembers. It was the only thing he thought about for five years straight. He nods at Sylvain.

"Ask me what you meant to.”

Sylvain comes closer and takes Felix’s hand in his. Sylvain’s nails are pointed and sharp, but he’s so careful with Felix. It leaves Felix flushed, warm, happy. His heart beats happily in his chest. He already knows what Sylvain wants to ask—he’s been meaning to ask the same thing for a while himself—but he won’t ruin this moment for him.

Sylvain takes in a small breath. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?” he asks, his voice soft and gentle. “I’ll be good to you. I’ll take care of you, make you feel safe and happy and loved.”

Felix smirks. He’s only briefly reunited with Sylvain, but that sly little smirk Sylvain always wears is rubbing off on him already, it seems.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Felix reaches up a hand and cradles Sylvain’s face. Sylvain smiles, his ears perking up, and he leans forward to capture Felix’s lips with his own.

-

Sylvain and Felix spend their lives together. Just like when they were children, they are inseparable. They bicker and banter, and yes, they have little arguments here and there, but it’s never anything too serious, usually resolved within a few minutes and ended with a fond kiss or a playful tease. They spend their lives together, even getting together a small group of friends for a small marriage.

But as years pass with the happy couple together and as Felix grows older and older, Sylvain doesn’t seem to age. Felix isn’t expecting him too—kitsune are immortal, after all. Yet, Sylvain doesn’t seem to like the thought that he’ll have to live without Felix, and Felix doesn’t like to think that Sylvain will be miserable with him, living alone—or worse, that Sylvain will move on and forget all about him.

Neither of them know what to do.

And as Felix gets weak and feeble, lying on his deathbed, Sylvain can’t stop worrying himself sick, pacing around near Felix’s bed and waiting on him, hand and foot.

“Stop pacing like that,” Felix says from his bed with a frown. “It’s making me dizzy.”

Sylvain stops nearly immediately, though Felix meant it more as a joke. He comes to Felix’s side and sprawls himself over Felix, his ears pressed flat against his head and his tails drooping.

“Felix,” Sylvain says quietly.

Felix runs a hand through Sylvain’s soft hair. When had his hand gotten so wrinkled? When had his veins started to bulge out against his skin like that? When had Felix’s hair grown so pale and brittle and thin, unlike Sylvain’s voluminous hair?

“Don’t go.” He sounds childish, meek, small.

“I won’t, Sylvain.” Felix feels a little choked up, but he won’t show how he feels. He knows if he breaks now and shows Sylvain his tears, after decades of not crying for any reason, Sylvain will never be able to recover properly from this. Felix’s death will hang over Sylvain the same way that Glenn’s death had hung over Felix’s head for a majority of his youth.

“Please.” Sylvain sounds just as choked up as Felix feels.

“I said I won’t. I’m here. Aren’t you listening?”

“Felix.” Sylvain says his name desperately, like a prayer, an empty plead, like Felix can do anything about his own mortality. “Felix.”

Felix can’t bring himself to do anything. He’s really tired, and having Sylvain on him, he just feels warm. Comfortable.

“I wish I could go with you,” Sylvain says, and his voice breaks a little. “I don’t want to be here without you."

“I wish I could stay with you.”

Sylvain sits up right. “Wait. Maybe you can.”

Felix raises an eyebrow. His time is running out. He doesn’t have time for Sylvain’s little mischievous antics. But he’s still curious.

Sylvain takes Felix’s hand and holds it open. A little, white ball of fire—one of the balls of fire that always surround Sylvain at all times, one of the balls that Sylvain never let anyone ever touch—moves from Sylvain’s side and floats near Felix’s hand.

“Take it.”

Felix frowns. _Hoshi no tama._ It’s a little ball of fire, but it contains Sylvain’s memories and is a literal part of his soul.

“Take it, please,” Sylvain pleads.

Felix isn’t sure that he wants to touch something so precious to Sylvain, but he trusts Sylvain. He slowly closes his hand over the ball but lets go when Sylvain jolts a little, as if in pain. Sylvain shakes his head and forces his hands over Felix’s with a strained smile.

“There.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’ve always had my heart,” Sylvain says, and he smiles a little more playfully, “but not my soul.” He pauses. “I want that back, please.”

Felix, thoroughly confused, holds his hand out. “Then take it," he replies flatly. "You gave it to me.”

Sylvain shakes his head before kicking up his theatrics a little. “Oh, please, give me my soul back, Felix!”

Felix is feeling _way_ too old for this. “Sylvain, just—”

“I miss my soul! Oh, my poor, little soul! I’ll do anything! I’ll grant you any wish you have!”

And Felix understands now what Sylvain is doing. A kitsune’s hoshi no tama is very valuable, as it is part of their soul—and it’s said that they would do anything that the mortal who captures it asks of them, including granting wishes.

He hates that Sylvain had to be so dramatic about it—but Sylvain’s foxlike nature stops for no one and no time.

Felix cracks a smile, but before long, he’s laughing, though his old, weak body can’t handle that kind of pressure on his chest or his diaphragm for long. He winces a little in pain, and Sylvain’s expression falls, reaching over to place a hand on Felix’s forearm.

“Felix, hurry,” he pleads. “Say something.”

Felix grips the little star-ball in his hand. “Grant me my wish. You know what it is.”

“I need you to say it.”

“Then, I wish I were immortal too—so I can stay with you.”

Sylvain’s eyes grow a little glassy as he smiles, but his tails flare out behind him in a fan-like pattern. The star-ball in Felix’s hand burn brighter and hotter, and Felix lets it go reflexively. It flies back towards Sylvain, joining the other balls of light surrounding him. His eyes go full-white as a blue light seems to outline him, radiating off of him.

Sylvain comes closer and sets two fingers against Felix’s forehead. He shuts his eyes, and a wave of magic pulses through Sylvain’s body and into Felix’s body. It’s refreshing. His joint stop aching, his lungs stop feeling so weak, and his skin seems to look younger, firm and clear of wrinkles as opposed to when his skin had sagged and bore wrinkles.

When Sylvain is done, he smiles brightly, handing Felix a hand-mirror.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that before,” Sylvain says quietly with a soft laugh as Felix takes the mirror. “I guess I was panicking so hard at the thought of losing you that I couldn’t think right.”

Felix looks young. He looks around Sylvain’s age now, but there’s something strange about him. A pair of dark ears are standing up on his head, and he can feel a tail beneath him, squished between him and the bed.

“Sylvain. Did you…”

"You’re like me now." A brief pause. "You know, it’s a good look on you. It's cute.”

Felix sets the mirror aside. “Gods, you’re annoying.” But he can’t help the embarrassing tears of joy— _I won’t ever have to leave, Sylvain,_ he thinks, _We won’t have to ever grieve for our deaths_.

Sylvain hops onto Felix’s bed and hugs him tightly, his tails happily swinging around in the air behind him, and Felix laughs, clinging onto Sylvain and smiling down at him, knowing that there isn't any amount of time that he could spend with Sylvain before he tires of him. 

They'll never tire of each other. And they'll never be apart.

**Author's Note:**

> me, choked up: and sylvain and felix lived happily ever after and they were never sad ever and they were always together and-
> 
> Thought about making this a sad/bittersweet ending, but I couldn't handle that kind of angst orz


End file.
